


Oh but if I could, I would

by Dana



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Series, Tumblr Prompt, bad suits are mentioned, fluff with a dash of angst and such
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-26 08:15:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13231710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dana/pseuds/Dana
Summary: 'You’re supposed to talk me out of this', or, Sam and Gene share a private moment as they prepare for another couple's wedding.





	Oh but if I could, I would

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Loz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loz/gifts).



> <3 thank you for everything, Loz

'You're supposed to talk me out of this.'

''What?' Gene scoffs – maybe a little too dramatically, but it has just the right punch. 'Walk out on the bride and groom-to-be, half an hour before the guests are to be seated? You may take me for some sort of monster that goes about kicking puppies and stamping on kiddies' toys, but I have my limits.' He flicks Sam's ear, and Sam pouts – actually pouts, the nerve of him, rubbing the soft pink spot on his ear. 'I'll not have you disappoint poor Christopher on his wedding day.'

Sam gives a little snort, eyes crinkling in amusement. 'See, that's a load of bullshit – you're making yourself out to be the bigger person, when the truth is, you don't want to suffer all by yourself. Misery does love company.'

'Bingo.' Gene's smirking as he flips up the collar of Sam's starched white shirt, goes to fiddle with his bow tie. They're off by themselves in the dressing room, needed some time to compose themselves before they started their task as ushers – they did still have some time left, after all. Ray had delighted in being able to order them about – wasn't that the point of him being the best man, really? And it was all coming together nicely, would certainly be the event of Chris' life. And for Charlene too – no, Charlotte. That was his bird's name.

Sam sighs as Gene fusses about him, but stands there like a good boy. His eye turns critical as he regards their combined reflection in the standing mirror sat before them. 'Though he could have picked something less horrible for us to wear.'

Gene glances at their reflection – he's wearing blue velvet, Sam's in green, double-breasted monstrosities in dire need of being taken out back behind the church to be put out of their misery (Ray's in a particularly horrendous shade of red). The bride and groom themselves are in more traditional white, but the bridesmaids – bless their poor souls – are just as garishly garbed as the groomsmen, in teal, purple, and pink.

'Well I think you look lovely, ruffles and all.' He folds down Sam's collar, wonders what Chris and his lovely bride-to-be had been thinking – if they'd been thinking at all. Or how Chris' parents had been willing to shell out more than even the bride's parents for this hopefully only once in a lifetime shindig – were they seriously that desperate for Chris to help give them some grandchildren? Or how any of this was happening at all, it could have been a scene from a bad sitcom, or an even worse dream.

'And now your tie is done up proper, you look even better.'

Sam's eyes are twinkling now. He leans back, lets Gene catch him, closes his eyes as Gene slides his arms about his waist, pulls him closer. Gene closes his eyes as well, sighs softly, feels the heat of Sam's body and the steady thrumming of his heart. 'You're just saying that 'cause you can't wait to help get me out of this godawful get up once get home.'

'Bingo, yet again.' Gene presses a quick kiss to Sam's cheek, lets Sam go and reaches up to straighten his own collar and tie, needlessly fidgeting; but it's true, he wants the main event to start already, there's the reception to deal with after, and all. Most certainly doesn't want to think about how Sam saying _home_ had made him shiver, hot and cold at the same time, only, well, there you go. So he grins, to hide the tenderness of the moment, but he's not sure he's acted quick enough – Sam's sure to have seen it in his face, felt the sincerity of it.

That really should bother him, but it doesn't.

'You really are a clever little sod.'

Sam smirks. Gene smirks back at him. When Sam's expression goes sombre, Gene's ready for a drink. Sam lets out another deep sigh, runs his hand up along the mirror's frame. 'I just feel like he's making a mistake. He hardly knows her, it hasn't even been two months.'

Gene shrugs. He heads over to the makeshift dressing table, where his hipflask is waiting for him. 'Right, maybe he is. Maybe he isn't. He has a right to find out for himself, don't you think?' He takes a long drink of the whisky, cherishes the heat of it. 'Not like he'll be out anything other than his time.'

'Money isn't the issue.'

'Look – they make each other happy. Raymundo's already looking forward to being called 'Uncle Ray', and if they have a bumpy start, well, they have the rest of their lives ahead of them to sort that out. Plenty of time to get to know each other.'

Sam huffs – it's bitter sounding, soft. Gene turns to face him, flask in hand – the way that's Sam's got his arms folded about himself, like he's drawing inwards, Gene's sure he won't like what Sam has to say. Maybe Sam won't even like having to say it. How can he be like that, always – hot and cold at the time time, driving Gene mad with want, driving him _mad_ beyond reason. 'What is it?'

'Because that worked out so well for you and your missus.'

Gene's hand tightens about the flask, and he grits his teeth to bite back a snarl. 'I – ' It hits him, as Sam straightens up, expression softening. The steam of it flows out of him, and Sam takes a step towards him, one arm outstretched.

'Sorry – I didn't mean to put it like that. I know you loved – '

'No,' Gene shakes his head, sets the flask down, it's really just as simple as that. 'You're right.'

Sam frowns, stops. 'What?'

Gene stares at his hands, spread wide before him. It's the truth – Sam's right. As much as he'd loved Helen, after all that time together, they hadn't really known each other – because, if they had, maybe she wouldn't have fallen for that bird from her bridge club. Maybe Gene wouldn't have taken to buggering his DI. The divorce proceedings, themselves, had been painless – because he and Helen hadn't been in love in a long, long while. Saying goodbye, it was as easy as a visit to the barbers, or trimming his nails.

Sam startles him by taking hold of his hands, drawing them closer to his chest. 'I'm sorry.'

'Don't be.' Gene blinks back the emotion that was stinging his eyes. 'I'd marry you if I could.'

Sam's eyes go wide, so does his smile, the love shining through. Because he's a sap too, you're a pair of bloody saps, and there's something gentle yet affirming in his voice as he says, 'I know.' He draws Gene's hands up to his mouth, a kiss for both of them, slow and reverent. His speed picks up and his hands move to frame Gene's face, their mouths come together. The kiss is quick, but deep, and hard, and Gene's gasping as Sam draws back from him – he looks a bit dazed, himself.

'Come on – I'm sure someone else needs the dressing room already, we've been in here forever.' He slants a glance over at the door, closed but not locked. Anyone could have walked in on them, at any time. Found them hugging, saw them being tender with one another, kissing like they were the only two people in the world, for a moment so hopelessly and haplessly in love.

As they look at each other once more, Gene at least knows he can't trust himself to speak – so he nods, throat tight. Sam lets go of his hands, turns away from him to take that first step towards the door. Gene, watching him go, does the only thing he can – he snatches his hipflask up from off the desk, pockets it, and then follows Sam out through the door.


End file.
